Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
Oft from new truths, and new phrase, new doubts grow, As strange attire aliens the men we know.
As soon as there was two there was pride.
All occasions invite His mercies, and all times are His seasons.
Contemplative and bookish men must of necessity be more quarrelsome than others, because they contend not about matter of fact, nor can determine their controversies by any certain witnesses, nor judges. But as long as they go towards peace, that is Truth, it is no matter which way.
Thy face is mine eye, and mine is thine.